


Rosie

by LoriFenton



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoriFenton/pseuds/LoriFenton
Summary: Sherlock never thought he would be in this scenario. Him and his best friend John, in the house of Jim Morriarty, drinking tea. They only intended to discuss a plan to introduce him back into society, but they found something else. A girl, who they felt the need to protect.TW for child abuse and implied sexual abuse. Please stay safe x.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 5





	1. First instinct

**Author's Note:**

> So the first chapter. This isn't the cheeriest story so I'm going to post TWs here before each chapter so please stay safe.   
> TW: Child abuse and slavery, verbal abuse, referenced drug usage.

Sherlock never thought he would be in this scenario. Him and his best friend John, in the house of Jim Morriarty, drinking tea. They were talking about how they could reintroduce him back into society, something Sherlock was very much not keen on doing but he saw no other option to keep London safe. John wasn’t entirely sure how this worked, he knew that Sherlock had been promised that Jim would not be blowing up parliament if Sherlock helped him, but he was sure parliament would find itself in smithereens anyway. Especially after that failed attempt a few years back, Jim was desperate. 

“John, are you sure that you don’t want any tea?” Jim asked. John’s blood turned cold at the thought of drinking tea from this man, but at the same time he was absolutely parched.   
“John I can tell you need a drink your eyes are dry which is one of the first signs of dehydration. It’s completely safe he won’t have poisoned it. A man so clever would never kill you off this early because he knows that you can help him a lot so it will be at least until he is back on the streets of London before he even makes an attempt on your life. Also he isn’t pathetic enough to use poison he would be arrested before he knew it, so easy to track down. So John for God’s sake take the tea.”

“Uh, yeah please, tea would be great thanks.” John said. 

Jim looked over to the girl that was scrubbing the fireplace in the corner of the room. “Bitch.” She quickly came over to him. “Bring us another pot of tea and an extra cup.” He looked her up and down. Without warning he backhanded her in the face. He pulled her hair and made her stand back up. “Well what are you waiting for?” She quickly scampered off. John looked at the door where she had just left and back at Jim. 

“Do you like it? I bought it underground on the black market and trained it. Children nobody wants you see. Had it for a couple of years now, turned into a very good specimen even if it does need to be reminded of its place, every so often.” John grimaced at that, she was a girl, a child. Jim was an evil man and he didn’t trust him one bit with her. When she returned John realised she was wearing a brown jumpsuit, similar to those associated with prisoners. However, the one the girl was wearing hung off her and had a few holes and had patches that had obviously been sewn up. Her hair was tied back into a single plait that reached her waist with a small piece of elastic. Her body was no older than a child – ten at most, but John could tell she was older from her face. 

“Dog,” She looked up from pouring her tea but kept her head slightly bowed. “Tell the lovely Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson about where you came from. Then fetch us some food, the biscuits will do.”

“My Mother and Father were drug addicts. They found themselves with no money so sold me to the underground trade. I have had two previous owners; Master has owned me for four years.” 

Jim looked at her. Then, suddenly he pulled a cattle prod from behind the chair he was sitting on and stabbed the girl with it. She silently screamed as the current ran through her little body. She had messed up. “Did you get permission to speak fleabag?” He smirked as she violently shook her head. “I tricked you. Remember, questions don’t always mean you get to answer them.” She fought to stand back up and remained with her head dipped in submission fighting back what was sure to be a fit of coughing. She had had a chill since she had been hosed down as a punishment and was made to sleep outside in the rain. 

“Now” said Jim interrupting her thoughts. “Go and get us the food, finish with the fireplace, then report back here. You are to only travel on your hands and knees for the rest of the day as an extra punishment for speaking without permission. This is to remind you of your animal state. What are you? You have permission to answer my question.” By this point Jim had nearly forgotten about the presence of Sherlock and John who were watching perplexed at the way he treated the child. 

“An animal Master.” 

“And what do we use on cows like you? You may answer this question also.”

“Cattle prods Master.” 

“Good dog.” He electrocuted her again and she fell to the floor. She didn’t need to be told to crawl off and fetch the food. John looked at the man in front of him who was looking incredibly smug. “Sorry John, Sherlock. I shouldn’t be neglecting you, and we have my reintegration to plan. How about we finish up here today and meet same time tomorrow?”   
John looked at him again, him being completely shocked at how he could just sit there have been electrocuting the child. The man was pure evil. Sherlock thought the same, but he was much better at hiding his opinions and more human side. The pair of them left the house without saying much else.   
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“I know what you’re about to say, the girl, you’re confused.” Sherlock looked straight ahead in the cab. “There is an underground slave trade, mostly people who are in debt or parents who sell their children. On my to do list to bring it down should only take a couple of days. The girl came from there.” 

“But Sherlock, she’s with Jim Morriarty. I don’t trust him with her, she’s what, twelve? We have to help her.” 

“I can’t intervene with this. I’m sorry John.”

“You are alien.”   
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The girl crawled out carrying the plate of her Mater’s food. She had to reach quite high to put it on the table, but she was mostly successful none the less. “Oh vermin, you spilt some. Never mind, I’m not going to punish you because you were trying to follow my instruction from earlier. You have my permission to stand for the rest of the meal, but only after you have cleaned this off the floor.” She nodded as a thanks and quickly wiped off the gravy off the floor with her sleeve. Standing up she poured Jim a rather large glass of wine. He took a sip. “Pass me the salt bitch.” She reached over the table, knocking the wine glass over. Jim looked absolutely livid. “Clean this up.” 

The girl ran to get the broom to pick up the tiny shards of glass. Jim grabbed her hair. “Where do you think you’re going. You may answer my question.” 

“The broom Master. To clean up the mess.” 

“That’s a privilege. Use your fucking hands.” He pushed her down and electrocuted her. The glass was cutting into her hand as she tried to sweep it up and put it in the bin next to her. When she had finished (not without Jim using the cattle prod on her every ten minutes) she was told to clean up and then be dismissed to one of the many basements where she would sleep every night. 

The basement was quite big, but bare. Inside were two blankets, one she slept on and one that kept her warm. In one corner there was a bowl and a rusty sink where Jim would turn the water on and off, and a bucket in another corner. She knelt waiting for Jim to arrive. When he did she was surprised to see that he wasn’t carrying his cattle prod. Instead, he had a riding crop in his grip. She flinched as he whipped her. Once he had administered what he would have called a suitable number of lashes he grabbed her by the hair and hissed into her ear. “I think you need to learn a lesson. Now – you spilt wine all over my tablecloth, a nice possession of mine. Hm, your punishment will be having all fabric taken away from you to make up for the fabric you ruined. Give me your clothes, blankets, that little elastic in your hair.” 

She complied only leaving a small vest and underwear that she would be allowed to keep, feeling cold and exposed. “And food. Do you think you deserve a food privilege today?” She shook her head; she had spilt the wine of course she wasn’t going to get food. He surprised her by pulling out a few pieces of bread and throwing them at her. She quickly took them and began to eat, slowly. With that Jim turned around and left her in the dark room. She realised he hadn’t turned the water on for her to drink and sighed. Her ever permanent headache from the thirst was worse, her throat felt like sand after eating the dry bread. She realised that he had used the food as a punishment, to make her thirstier. That was just like him. With no clothes or blankets to cover her she curled up on the other side of the room. 

In the morning she was woken up by being thrown her uniform again. He could see her shivering and coughing as she tried to conceal some warmth in her body. She looked up at Jim and dipped her head in both thanks and submission before slipping it on. He had a glass of water in his hand as well as her hair elastic. “Have you learned your lesson dog? You may speak.”

“Yes Master, I have learned my lesson.” 

“Good.” He gave her the glass of water and she drank it slowly. “Now. I want you to be cooking breakfast in five minutes. You will serve it to me in bed as I am feeling tired today. Then you will kneel by my side like you would so if you were by the table. After that you will resume your usual chores. Sherlock and John, the two men from yesterday are coming for tea. Because yesterday their visit was impromptu, we did not have enough time to prepare. I want to treat them like actual guests, prepare us a high tea. Everything included. Therefore you will finish your cleaning until quite late tonight.” 

She sighed, she hadn’t slept much at all due to being so cold and now she would probably be cleaning way into the night. She quickly plaited her hair again and went to serve breakfast.   
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Sherlock, if you don’t do something about that girl today then I will. I can’t stand by and watch a child be a slave to that evil monster.” 

“She’s fine, some things are just out of our control.” 

“Sherlock, please. Just – this man nearly blew me up you can’t say she is fine with him.” 

“John, she is one girl. If we rescue her then another girl will just get the exact same treatment. We are better off leaving things the way they are.” John looked at Sherlock astounded at how he could say such a thing. This carried on when they walked into the house Jim was staying in. They recognised it as the same large suburban house as the one he hid in whilst pretending to be Richard Brooke. Sure enough, the girl answered the door. She let them in, took their coats to and then disappeared into the kitchen area. 

“Hello good friends. I trust that you have come up with a plan of some sorts. First though, my lovely bitch has prepared us afternoon tea.” 

John watched as the same girl from yesterday came in carrying multiple plates of food for them. Everything was included, scones, sandwiches, tiny cakes, hell it was comparable to the Ritz! John looked at Sherlock who gave him a nod to confirm the food was safe to consume. It was amazing. All while they were eating the child was kneeling beside them ready to pour tea or cater to any other need that may arise. John decided that he would try and smuggle some food to her if he could. He watched the girl, so many questions arising that he wanted to ask her, but he refrained from checking if she was ok. He knew from experiences with his Father that being asked if you are ok can only aggravate people further. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he tuned out of Sherlock and Jim’s conversation. 

“Sherlock I don’t know how I can repay you. I must give you a present of my thanks. If there is anything I can do for you. Now, I must be telling you to be off I have an appointment with the slave trader who is hopefully going to put a value on fleabag here.” 

“How about I take it home with me. I could do with someone to help with my experiments.” Johns attention snapped back. Sherlock was talking about the girl. John had to fight not to kick himself right there and then. Sherlock had his ways; he wasn’t surprised this was happening. God he loved that man. 

“That’s not a bad idea. I’m sure you would make good use of it. I want to train a new slave anyway.” 

“Right then, that’s settled.” Sherlock turned to her. “You are now coming home with me; do you have any possessions you wish to bring with you.” She didn’t answer. Sherlock remembered the first time she had been introduced. “You have my permission to speak for the rest of this conversation.”

“No Sir.” She replied. 

“Really? What do you sleep on?” 

“In the basement there are two blankets and a bucket, but those do not belong to me Sir.” Her heart was racing. What would this new owner do to her? Did he have any other slaves? What did he mean by her being his help for experiments? 

“If it is ok with Jim you can bring the blankets with you.” He looked over at Jim who nodded, she quickly walked off. 

“Don’t think that this whole process has made us friends Morriarty, I still think you are the embodiment of evil in a human being. I still do not trust you, and I still will do everything I can to bring you down.” 

“Don’t worry.” Jim responded. “I will not hesitate to burn the heart out of you at every single chance I get.” The girl returned carrying the blankets and had a terrified look on her face. Sherlock thought it best to get her out of that house. “Goodbye Holmes.” Sherlock slammed the door behind him without looking back.


	2. Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I should clear up that this is a no Mary no baby story in case anyone was wondering. 
> 
> TW: More child abuse including sexual abuse.

The three of them entered the small house. John went upstairs to clear his room and change the sheets on his bed, the girl needed a proper room and he could just share with Sherlock until they found a more permanent solution. The police were going to come in a few hours but it was likely she was going to have to stay with them that night, it was already the early hours of the evening. She was not a fan of the fact she was alone with Sherlock, the man was very tall and looked like he would be able to hurt her very easily. However she was in no place to say anything like that. She decided that she would just try as hard as she could to stay out of his way. She knew from their conversation with Jim that these two men were to be her new owners, so she just waited to be given a task from Sherlock. He, however, did not tell her to do anything apart from sit down. She was confused. Never had someone asked her to sit on a chair before. She tentatively perched on the edge of the sofa, not wanting to get into trouble. 

The door to the house slammed shut, which made her flinch a little. This didn't go un noticed by Sherlock who made a mental note to avoid loud noises. Basically, to not shoot the wall for a while. She was carrying three full shopping bags, containing mostly what looked like clothes. "I got your text and went down to the street with loads of charity shops. I am sorry I couldn't get much new or in fashion but we both know that buying an entire wardrobe full of clothes was going to be too much money, more than either of us could afford. You can get real deals though it's brilliant. You know, about two weeks ago I picked up a telly for only-" Before she could carry on she saw the girl Sherlock was talking about. She was just as skinny and malnourished as she could imagine. There was something else that made her heart pour out. The scared, vulnerable expression on her face maybe? "You must be who Sherlock was talking about. Call me Mrs Hudson everybody else does. I live in the flat downstairs I'm Sherlocks landlady. I've just been out to pick up some things for you. Clothes and toiletries mostly but I found a few things for you to put in your room." 

The girl was speechless. All of this for her? She looked up with an expression on her face that was worth more verbal thanks that Mrs Hudson could have received. The moment was interrupted by John's familiar footsteps trudging down the stairs. 

Sherlock, glad to be relieved of the silence stood up mumbling something about needing to call Lestrade to find a foster home for her. 

When John came down he was the one to break the silence between them. "I never asked you. What is your name?" When he was only met back with a look that expected something else he remembered what had happened back at Jim's house. "I know how it was with Jim, however it's not like that here. You are allowed to ask and answer any questions you want to. You are allowed to speak at any time." 

She was stunned. This was a completely new rule. "Thank you Sir, people call me dog, fleabag, bitch, cow, vermin and a few others Sir." 

Now it was John's turn to be stunned. 'Oh my god the poor thing' he thought to himself. "What did they call you at the, you know. Where they sold you."

"The market sir? They called me whore and slut." She said, embarrassed. She didn't know what that word meant, but people would often call her it after they were alone and they would touch her in places she didn't want. Once she realised that she knew it was bad, and if she was called a bad thing she must have done something bad. 

'Oh god that's even worse' John thought. He really hoped they hadn't done anything to her despite he himself knowing that was such a distant hope. He decided to lighten the mood a bit. "Well I don't want to call you any of those, and I'm sure you don't like them either. You still need a name though. How about you think of one, maybe you read a nice name in a book or there was a person you met and liked." 

She thought for a few seconds. She couldn't read, nobody had ever taught her. She liked to look at pictures and sometimes draw her own in the dust on the floor but she never knew any of the names of the beautiful women in pictures she saw or drew. She thought of the people she knew instead. There were a few women who would come to Jim's. There was Irene but she never really knew her. Irene would sometimes kick her anyway. There was also Euros, but she didn't like her either. She would always brag about the graphic ways she killed people and then joke to say that she was next. She remembered her second owner's grandmother, an old woman with few years left in her life. She was called Millie, but she would often lie about what she had done in order to warrant the young girl a particularly brutal beating. She was about to give up and ask John to name her instead like all her other owners, when she remembered something. In her first house, she was brought to assist the only slave there. This slave was kidnapped two years prior so had twelve years of healthy life being loved before she came into the life of a slave. At fourteen years of age she became her big sister, and she liked to watch her all the time. She therefore never needed to call her by any name to get her attention because she was always there. She loved her and the way they would run around the grounds on breaks and then curl up in the bed they shared and talk about the castle they were going to dream about together. She had one memory of them in the garden trimming the bushes when she grabbed a rose and said "That's my name, Rosie. I'm not allowed to use it so don't tell anyone, but the name my mum gave me was Rosie." 

"Rosie." She said, quickly regaining John's attention. "I would like to be called Rosie if that's okay with you Sir." 

"Rosie." Said John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this updating daily thing is not something I'll keep up, heads up on that one. But I'm, like most of the world, in lockdown and have nothing better to do.


	3. More Than We Signed Up To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: brief implications of sexual abuse.

It was about ten to eight in the evening. John was concerned that Rosie hadn't eaten anything that day but her eyes were bloodshot and she looked like she was going to fall asleep there and then on the sofa. "Rosie, I never asked. How old are you?" 

"I was born on the 27th July 2000 according to my records Sir." 

John made a mental note to drop the Sir in the morning. He wouldn't do it now though it was far too late in the day to have that conversation.

"Well that makes you turn fourteen in a month I guess." He was surprised she was this old, he put her at nearly twelve at the oldest. Malnutrition had taken it's toll stunting her growth. However even her face made her look younger than she was. "Rosie, if you would like, I will show you where you can sleep. There is a lock on the door so you can feel safe and I think Mrs Hudson has put your clothes away. I'm pretty sure she has done a bit of decorating as well. I think it would be a good idea for you to go to sleep, there are some pyjamas in the bottom draw." 

Rosie nodded and was shown into her bedroom. Again, she was completely speechless at everything inside. There was a large desk and chair, a wardrobe, a bookcase, a double bed with multiple cushions, and a small bedside table. Everything had a blue and green almost oceanic theme to it. There were some twinkling fairy lights that gave the illusion of stars above the water. 

"I hope you like it, you can always move some things around if you don't. I'm going to let you sleep now, take some pyjamas from the bottom draw if you want to. The clothes in the wardrobe are yours by the way, anything in the room is yours. Oh - there is also a bathroom through that door of you need the bathroom or a drink in the night. I have left a glass." John wasn't a fan of her drinking out of the bathroom taps but he knew that she wouldn't go down to the kitchen to get anything. He knew she needed to drink, she was showing all the signs of classic dehydration. Her body seemed so broken. He thought to himself he had better check her out but then he realised she was still traumatised, she was struggling to speak. She probably wouldn't be too happy with a man checking her out after what had happened at the market. He would have to take her to the doctor. 

Rosie tiptoed over to the wardrobe and grabbed the first pair of pyjamas she saw and put them on. She wasn't used to this, all of these...things. She opened the door to the bathroom to see a small room with a shower, a toilet and a sink. She had been using a bucket for so many years, so was slightly unsure of what to do. She tentatively sat down, relieved herself, stood up and pressed the button on the top. She washed her hands with the creamy soap, brushed her teeth with the new toothbrush and toothpaste and helped herself to a glass of water. 

She got into the bead and stretched out on the heavenly sheets. She would start working tomorrow and that's when the punishments would come, when the beatings would start and all of these privileges would be taken away from her. 'Still,' she thought 'I can enjoy it whilst it lasts.' It struck her quite how tired she was after that thought, Every muscle in her body seemed to melt into the most comfortable surface she had ever slept on. In mere seconds she was thrown into deep, dreamless sleep.   
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
John had gone back downstairs to the living room and opened his laptop to start writing his blog. He tried to type everything up, he needed to process what had happened but the words just weren't forming. Frustrated he slammed his laptop down and picked up a newspaper. Sherlock slammed the door to his bedroom in frustration. John looked at him, it was unlike him to get this angry when he was bored. With Jim Morriarty coming back into society and Rosie they were probably in the least boring situation they had been in for a very long time. However, Sherlock was still stomping around like there was nothing to do whatsoever. 

"Sherlock be quiet you're going to wake up Rosie she's just gone to sleep." John said in a feeble attempt to calm him down. "I'm going to make her an emergency appointment at the clinic tomorrow, I'll ask Sarah if she can give her a check up" Him and Sarah had stayed good friends despite breaking up three years prior. They had that sort of friendship unique to colleagues. Complaining about their boss, covering last minute shifts. The work friendship stuff. Sherlock, however, didn't take too much notice of his plan. 

"John, wait until you hear this. Child protective services are really busy rehousing all the children rescued from the slave market-"

"Wait. Rescued children? I thought that wasn't very high on your to do list."

"I had to say that to you to give you the impression I didn't care about Rosie so your reaction would be real when the idea of bringing her home with us was brought up when we were still at Jim's house, keep up for god's sake John."

"Oh okay." John couldn't help the beam on his face explode, he needed that little reminder that Sherlock was still human. 

"I just got off the phone with Lestrade. He said that there is nowhere for her to go and asked if we can have her for a few days until a space opens up. He said it would be a week at most. I tried explaining that we don't have the facilities or the experience to take in a child but he wasn't having any of it. She needs proper care that we cant provide for her."

"Shit." John said. Neither of them were very happy about the situation. It wasn't that he didn't want her around, it was that he had no idea how he could help her. "This is much more than we signed up for." He attempted to joke. 

"It's much more than we can do. Even if it is just a week it will be one of the hardest weeks of her life. A new way of thinking and a new environment are being introduced." 

John knew exactly what he was talking about. His first week back from Afghanistan was the hardest of his life, mostly because of the wild amounts of adjusting he had to do. God he hoped they could help her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so sorry for the lack of plot in this chapter, it was supposed to be just the beginning of a chapter but then it got long so I was like ok then this is now a chapter by its self. 
> 
> Yeah I am surprisingly good at this daily update thing so hopefully you get more soon. I can't make any promises though :)
> 
> I'm really enjoying writing this story so I hope you are enjoying 3am ideas that I've never actually put on paper before. This is my first story that I've put on here haha! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope everyone's doing OK in this crazy time. Keep going my lovelies,  
> Lori xx


	4. Healing Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna say this now, this chapter is a lot so basically if you want to skip it I'll summarise it in the beginning of the notes for the next chapter. That way you can get the plot without the intense stuff. 
> 
> Ok so this chapter has a lot of description of health stuff and some injuries that's kinda graphic so please be careful. Also, quick disclaimer so the health part of this chapter is going to be wildly inaccurate because I am not a DR. I am studying music. So other TWs are panic attacks, flashbacks, sexual abuse (underage) and implied rape, severe child abuse, use and character death. 
> 
> We find out a lot of Rosie's past which as you can imagine is pretty sad. Please be really careful.

Rosie woke up from what had probably been the best sleep of her life. She slowly opened her eyes to watch the edges of the curtains grow light. She had a clock in her room but couldn't read any of the numbers or know what they meant. She had become good at knowing when she was supposed to wake up due to the level of light outside. It was summertime, meaning that it would be completely light outside in the early hours of the morning. With the sun just starting to rise, she decided she had time to have a shower. She turned the water on and quickly shampooed her hair and rinsed her skin. She realised there was some conditioner there, recognising the scent and texture from the bathroom of her second owner. She put some of that into her hair again and rinsed it out until her hair was silky smooth. She wrapped a towel around her and stepped out into the bedroom to choose what she would like to wear. She had no idea what was supposed to match with what and was extremely overwhelmed with the amount of choice so just chose the most plain option she could. A pair of light blue jeans and a white shirt. It was a few sizes too big for her, but in a way that she could get away with quite easily. She looked out of the window to see that it was very nearly completely light, so probably about half past six. She slipped her feet into some socks and tiptoed down the stairs. 

To her relief neither Sherlock not John were sat in the sitting room. That meant she was able to start cooking breakfast without anybody watching her, and she was glad she was up early enough to cook. She opened up the fridge and was greeted by a foot in a plastic bag. She was shocked, but knew she had to get cooking. She used the tip of one finger to move it to the side and carefully pulled out some bacon. Great. She found some tomatoes, eggs, and a loaf of bread. She places the bacon and tomatoes under the grill and scrambled the eggs. 

Something about cooking calmed her. There was a sense of familiarity about it that comforted her, and most importantly cooking reminded her of Rosie. She loved Rosie guiding her little hands through dough, or showing her how to chop things properly without a risk of her getting hurt. Sometimes Rosie would let her smell spices so she could see why the flavours worked so well together, or watch with awe as she would tell her exactly how long everything needed to be cooked for to achieve a perfect char or boil. She loved it when Rosie would let her say exactly when something needed to be turned over, or when she was even allowed to start using the cooker herself right before they had to leave each other. Her favourite thing was when Rosie would give her a tiny bit of sauce on a spoon, or tiny biscuit that was made specially for her before she would quickly clear up the evidence. She smiled at the memories. The time with Rosie in the kitchen had made her an amazing cook, something none of her owners could ever fault her for. 

Sherlock was the first one to enter the kitchen, usually being the earlier riser of the two. He had been double careful not to wake John up who was still fast asleep in hid bed. "Good morning Rosie." 

Rosie looked up at him. "Good morning Sir." She said to him with a rehearsed politeness. 

Sherlock wasn't too sure how to talk to a teenager, let alone in this situation, so he kept his mouth shut. He opened up his newspaper and was glad to see that the slave market had made headlines. It was destroyed, for now at least. 

Rosie continued to cook, continuously stirring the eggs adding a lump of butter and slosh of milk to make them extra creamy. She also put a few slices of bread in the toaster. The tomatoes were starting to char and the bacon was getting a nice amount of crisp to it. She had another look in the fridge and realised there was a carton of apple juice. One look at it and she realised it would be inedible, two months past it's sell by date. She notices a few oranges that looked like they needed using anyway. She made quick work of squeezing the juice out of them in a method Rosie had taught her. It got most of the juice out and she was sure she had enough for Sherlock and John to have two glasses each.

Just as the toast popped up John walked into the room. He shot Sherlock a disapproving look as if to say 'why the hell is she cooking you breakfast?' as soon as he saw what Rosie was doing, but then he saw why Sherlock had left her to her own devices. She had this focused expression on her face, one that showed love for what she was creating. For the first time since she arrived she didn't look like she was going to flinch or jump or bolt. She looked almost relaxed. John could see a small hint of a smile forming on her face. 

"Good morning Rosie, did you sleep well?" 

She turned around and nervously nodded. "Very well Sir." 

"Please Rosie, were not like the other people in you life. Call me John, and same goes for Sherlock." 

"Yes John, I am sorry for getting it wrong before." 

"It's okay, you didn't know. It smells delicious in here. Just know that we don't expect you to wake up early and cook for us every morning. However, help yourself to any ingredients you like to. I can tell you are enjoying yourself there. Just, don't feel obliged to wake yourself up." 

Rosie nodded sheepishly and thanked him. She tried to grab some plates but John stopped her. "I'll do that." This left her very confused. She was brought as a slave but neither Sherlock nor John seemed to expect her to do any work! The work would come soon enough, maybe she was just being shown how to do things before she was put to work properly. She decided that was what would happen. She was confused as to why John was setting out three places at the table too. "It's for you Rosie, you can sit and eat breakfast with us." was what she was told when she tentatively asked John. This was completely new, being allowed to eat with her owners. Still that didn't stop her from tentatively sitting down after filling up the plates. She put considerably less on hers than on any others, she didn't want to push her luck or eat too much to make herself sick. All she could manage was half a slice of toast, a rasher of bacon, two tomatoes and a small spoonful of egg. 

"Rosie this is amazing." John said through a full mouth. She nodded a thank you to him. "Rosie you have an appointment with a doctor in an hour. Finish your breakfast and then we should head off." 

She didn't think much about seeing a doctor, she imagined it to be like the health check at the market. She went back upstairs and slipped a pair of black ankle boots. John had called a cab, normally he would take the tube but he didn't want to scare her with the business of London. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they arrived at the surgery, John awkwardly said hi to Sarah. They were both taken instantly into a room and Sarah explained what she would have to do. Blood tests, urine samples, everything. Then John would have to leave the room and her height, weight, blood pressure would be taken. Taking the samples all went smoothly. She didn't even flinch at the blood test which was extremely unusual for a child of her age. When John left the room he was sure that the rest would go fine, she seemed pretty calm. 

Her height and weight were all pretty smooth as well, though Sarah noticed she was flinching at every single move. Unfortunately this was just the calm before the storm which came when she tried to take her heartbeat. "Now Rosie if you could just lift up your shirt for me to put this on your chest." Who would have known that such a simple everyday action would have surfaced so many memories.   
*  
"Take off your shirt now, Whore." She took it off, well used to the routine of the inspection. She was now completely naked and felt extremely vulnerable. The guard grabbed her arm roughly leaving a bruise. "Come closer you slut, I need to make sure you're ready to be presented." He started to rub his hands on her chest, letting them drag down, down, down as he kissed her neck. With his other hand he stroked her back all the way to her bum and squeezed it. "Little whore. Little slut." He stopped only for a few seconds to undo the buckle on his belt.  
*  
Without warning a scream ripped through Rosie's vocal chords and into the air. Sarah, stunned tried to get words out. "Rosie, I'm sorry, but I'm going to need you to calm down."   
*  
"For fucks sake, calm down you bitch?" The voice of her owner threw across the room. He grabbed by the hair and almost threw her into a crumpled heap. She felt a spark of defiance trying to reach the girl she so loved and stood right back up running to the door. "Rosie, Rosie, Rosie!" She kept crying out. But nobody responded. She had seen the doctor go in earlier and knew exactly what had happened. When Rosie had started coughing up blood she knew there was no way they would be together for much longer. She spent so long screaming and crying at her to wake up that every time she breathed pain would shoot through her throat. "You bitch, shut up or it's a week in the box for you."  
*  
"John, quick." Sarah said. 

"For god's sake Sarah what have you done?"   
*  
"What have you done?" Her owner glared at her with piercing eyes. He grabbed the riding crop and ripped of her shirt. He kept building and building and building until she was a whimpering mess. "There. Your punishment bitch."   
*  
Rosie couldn't breathe. She tried to but her throat just wouldn't open. Her head was pounding and the room was spinning and blurring quite rapidly. Her knees were shaking so violently she could stand and fell to the floor. Then, everything was too much, and she blacked out. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rosie woke up in an unfamiliar environment. She was in a very comfortable space and could feel many heavy blankets on top of her. She didn't want to open her eyes, afraid she might be dreaming and that she would wake up back at Jim's house away from this comfort. Then she remembered Sherlock and John, breakfast, and … oh shit. She shot her eyes open to see John sitting at the end of her bed holding a plate of cookies and a tall glass of water. 

"I'm so sorry sir, John I mean. I don't know what came over me I'm so sorry. You must be so humiliated." 

"Rosie, it's okay. I know exactly what happened. You had a panic attack." 

"What's that?" 

"Something about the appointment set off an emotional response triggering flashbacks to your past and they caused your body to effectively shut down. You then passed out so we brought you back here. Nothing of what happened is your fault, everything is completely okay. Sarah understood when I explained to her so there is no harm there." 

"So no punishment then?"

"What? God no. I am still very concerned about you Rosie. Sarah sent off all the stats and samples she got to our friend Molly, who analysed them. She's picking up some medication for you now. Then she will be over here to talk to Sherlock and I. Only if you feel comfortable with this will this part go ahead. Molly is a doctor too, so she could do the rest of your examination. This is only if you want to. I only am so keen to do it as if there is something very wrong then we will be able to sort it out."

Rosie though for a moment, but she didn't want to waste this Molly person's time. Besides, she knew it was better to just get the examination over with. She tentatively agreed. 

"That's great Rosie. Before I forget, have these cookies. Mrs Hudson made them and they're absolutely amazing. I know how draining these panic attacks can be, I had them too." John looked at the fragile child who looked like she was about to cry. Healing hurts he thought to himself. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Molly came in she went to see Rosie first. This time, Rosie was in a more comfortable space and was much more able to prepare herself for what would be asked of her. This made the whole process go quite quickly. Molly then let Rosie fall back asleep and went downstairs to talk to John and Sherlock. 

"Molly, was everything okay? Did she let you check her?" asked Sherlock quite quickly. 

"She was fine, very stiff and scared but we did this slowly. Her physical state though, not at all fine. Sherlock, it's really bad. Starting from her head, she has a concussion but she'll recover pretty quickly. There is a gash on her upper back that needed to be glued, and one of her shoulders has been so strained the joint has work away over time so she will need to remain in a sling. She has two broken ribs, and another one cracked it's a wonder how she didn't puncture a lung. Her heartbeat was elevated, probably because of the anxiety. Her back was, well, mangled. There is no other way to describe it. I've bandaged it up as best as I could, many cuts were infected and still weeping pus. Her thighs also had similar cuts, but nowhere near as bad as her back. Her knees have strained so much from kneeling for extended periods of time that she may have permanent damage.Her feet are fine but the skin is like a rock. Then there's the test results. Her iron levels are dangerously low and so is her B12. She has a horrible UTI, but is clear of STDs thank goodness." 

John and Sherlock were both stunned, Sherlock was kicking himself for missing this he hadn't even attempted to make some deductions to try and help her. John was equally as frustrated. He was a doctor and he had missed so much. "What do we do now?" He asked to break the silence. 

"Well for the concussion she needs total bed rest, same for her ribs. I would say at least a week. Her upper back should heal on its own, remove the dressing after three days. The bandages on her back will need changing in a week. Her thighs should heal on their own but please try to keep an eye on them. Her knees are in splints to keep them in place, this is looking to be for about six weeks but she needs to be able to learn to walk in them before you take them off. I've prescribed antibiotics for the infection and the UTI, iron tablets and B12 that needs to be injected. John I'm guessing you can do that. If its okay with you both I would like to come back in a week to see how she is?"

A teary John looked up at her. He hated hearing all of this stuff. "That's fine Molly, whatever you need." 

Sherlock thanked her for coming round before she left the two upset men in their living room. John was right, healing hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter took wayyyy longer than planned to get out, but I'm sure we will cope. 
> 
> The lockdown is giving me so much extra time to write which is pretty cool. I'm hopefully starting a new work form home job soon though, which is cool but I'll have a lot less time to write stuff. 
> 
> Keep safe lovelies, wash your hands,   
> Lori xx


	5. Lessons She Had Not Learned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically in the last chapter Rosie goes to the Dr but has a panic attack and we find out that other Rosie died when she was really young. Molly ends up examining her and she tells Sherlock and John that she needs two weeks bed rest.   
> There aren't any TWs that I can think of for this chapter and there's a bit of fluff aha. Still be careful. 
> 
> I'm sorry this took so long to get out, basically both my parents are keyworkers (a teacher and a nurse) so I have had to look after my siblings during the daytime and its kinda worn me out but here you go kiddos.

Rosie woke up in the early hours of the morning. She watched the edges of her curtain grow light as she pondered getting out of bed. She wanted to go and cook breakfast again but her whole body ached and she was still so tired. She could hear movement from downstairs so knew she should probably get up soon but her whole body just ached and she was so tired. She let her body melt back into the mattress allowing herself just a few more minutes to rest. She heard footsteps moments later. 

John walked in carrying a big tray. On it was a tall glass of water, a mug of tea, and a glass of juice. There was a dish containing a number of tablets, a plate of toast and an apple. There was also an injection needle and a small bottle of fluid. She didn't quite know what that was for but decided to just go with it. The final few items on the tray were three books, a notepad, a packet of pens and a laptop. 

"Good morning Rosie, I brought you some things. There's breakfast, your medication and some things for you to do. I'm afraid its strict bedrest for you this week, as prescribed by Molly Hooper. You can still go into the bathroom to use the loo and shower etc. Nothing else though. The first thing I'm going to do for you is this really quick B12 injection. It will feel like a pin prick but I have to do it." He injected her and she barely flinched. 

"Well done Rosie, now eat some food and then you need to take your tablets. There's antibiotics, painkillers, iron and some vitamins." 

Rosie nodded obediently and nibbled on the edge of a slice of the toast. 

"I also brought you some books, paper and pens and my old laptop. This week is going to be frightfully boring but I'll try to keep some interest. All three of us can visit you if you want us to." 

"Thank you John, but don't feel obliged I would hate to be a burden." 

"You aren't a burden. Why don't you read one of the books, or set up the laptop. I restored it to factory settings so its properly yours now." 

Rosie's face burned. She started eating her toast quicker in the hope that John wouldn't notice. "Rosie?" He asked. Rosie couldn't bring herself to look at him. How would he react if he knew she lacked such a simple life skill? She would probably send her back cleaning, after all that's all she was good for. On that subject she was confused. Here she was, a slave being brought breakfast in her bed! What had happened there? 

"Rosie?" John reiterated. 

She knew she couldn't hide it any longer and she didn't want John to be annoyed at her for lying. "I can't read John." 

"Oh" said John sounding shocked. "Well we will have to teach you I guess. Not right now we can start in a few days when you're a bit stronger." He looked at Rosie again. He could tell there was something else she wanted to ask. "Rosie, is there anything else you want to ask me. Anything at all. I promise you that it is okay to ask me anything." 

"Why are you being so nice, treating me like an equal?" 

John was thrown by her question. "Because you are an equal?" 

"But, that's not why I was brought here. I was a thank you gift from Jim to you and Sherlock. Sherlock chose me to be the gift." Rosie was avoiding looking at John again. 

"That was just the way we had to rescue you." John whispered. Now it was his turn to look ashamed. 

"I'm a slave John, I'm paying off my parent's debt. Its the way stuff has worked since I was really young. It's my duty as a daughter to pay off the debt. People own me and I cater to their every needs. Then Jim gave me to you as a gift. Now I'm here to serve you but you haven't asked me to serve you in anything and it doesn't make any sense." Rosie was crying now as she realised what had happened and how she had questioned her owner. A small mantra of 'I'm sorry' fell from her lips. 

John was near tears himself. "Rosie listen to me. Here, you are not our slave. Sherlock brought down the Market that you were paying of debt to so there is no longer any need for you to serve whatsoever. You are now free and are no longer bound to anybody, and we do not own you. You are free to do as you please and most importantly, we care about you Rosie." 

Rosie smiled lightly. "It's just that no one said any different so I just assumed..." 

"And its our fault for ignoring that, but trust me Rosie you are an equal to us." 

John swallowed back the impending sob in the back of his throat. He made sure Rosie drank enough and took her tablets and then left her doodling on her new notepad. It struck him quite how talented she was but he decided not to mention it for the moment. Once he had shut the door he immediately started sobbing silently. He went the stairs and collapsed onto the sofa, breaking down. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"John you will not believe the idiot Lestrade, he still hasn't been able to find a placement for Rosie and she will be staying with us for another week after this one is over. She needs specialist treatment not some random men in a flat!" Sherlock shook his head. "And, get this. He has given her case over to Anderson. Flipping Anderson of all people. He doesn't know shit about her." Sherlock stopped. "You're crying, that means something is wrong." He sat beside John and took his hand. 

"We've failed her Sherlock, she thought she was our slave because we didn't tell her any different." John rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder. 

"That was a mistake, but we have time to make it up to her now. And trust me, we will be making it up to her." He said, and he planted a small kiss on his forehead. 

John leaned into the touch. She couldn't read, who knows if she had any basic maths, she didn't know that she wasn't a slave. This was going to be hard, the amount of lessons she had not learned.


	6. Pet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we check in with Jim. 
> 
> TWs for child abuse, sexual abuse.

Jim was frightfully annoyed. Sherlock was taking awfully long in reintegrating him back into society. He wanted so hard to take out his frustration on his pet, but Sherlock had taken that too. He punched his pillow, trying so hard to imagine it as the animal's face. His house had become a mess, he wanted another slave but the market had been taken down curtesy of one Sherlock Holmes. The man thought it funny to be taking away absolutely everything from his, and his little sidekick John. He went down two flights of stairs to where his pet used to live. There was still a trace of it's smell in the air which he breathed in joyfully. He shut his eyes and tried to remember their last night together, it lying on the ground shivering almost naked and cold. Oh how he wished he had stripped it fully so he could see it's beautiful body. Come to think of it, why had he hidden it for so long, he wanted it to be paraded in front of him for his entertainment. 

He had only used it in such a way once, he was particularly frustrated after talking to one Irene Adler and had to get it out somehow. He would use it like that more in the future, and use its pretty mouth as well as soon as he had it back and swear on his life he WOULD get it back. He walked over to the corner of the room where there was a cage. He hadn't used it much but he decided he would soon. He smiled at the thought of his beautiful pet, curled up in the cage like a proper animal waiting to be released only to serve him. 

He swiftly moved the cage into his bedroom ready for it's arrival, which he knew would be coming soon. He discarded the other things in it's basement. It wouldn't have any need for them when it returned. He grabbed a bowl of food he left on the counter and took it to his living room. How he missed his pet's cooking, but it wouldn't be long before he would be able to indulge again. He had hatched a plan, but it was just finding the right time to do it. He opened his laptop on which was already hacked into his beloved's case. What greeted him made him beam with delight. 

Case Charge: Anderson. 

That blundering idiot would notice nothing. He could find some specialists, or just some convincing actors. Then he would find the pressure point of the judge and force him to sign a document. Then he could very easily persuade Anderson to hand over his pet to the actors and then get his pet back. Such a simple plan. 

He picked up his phone. "Hello, I need something from you. Yes I will pay you a hefty sum for this..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh this chapter was a bitch to write. 
> 
> Anyway its a bit shorter than usual but it didn't seem to fit at the beginning or other end of other chapters so yeah. 
> 
> I promise Johnlock in the next chapter. Yay.


	7. Nothing Ever Lasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out, basically I was an idiot and forgot to save it so like the entire chapter deleted and I have had no motivation to re write the whole thing. Here it is though!

About a month had passed since Rosie had moved in with Sherlock and John, and she had finally settled into a routine. She would wake up, shower, dress, and then cook breakfast for the three of them. Then she would spend the morning being tutored to catch her up to the usual educational standard for her age. She was naturally very intelligent so was picking things up really quickly, and she did enjoy watching Sherlock do experiments whilst she took diligent notes on what was happening. That didn't mean there was still so much for her to learn. Something she had taken to immediately was the violin. She would take Sherlock's upstairs with her during her free time in the afternoons and play and play. Sherlock had taught her the very basics and then she had flown. She was at a level that would usually take people years to achieve, it had become her love. Life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows for her, there were still nights where she woke up screaming and still days where she would slip into old habits. However she was on the road to recovery, and that's all that mattered.

Rosie wasn't the only person who had found themselves completely different in the space of a month. John and Sherlock had found themselves in a completely different relationship. It started on a night where they both were upset from that idiot Anderson postponing Rosie's case by calling it 'low priority' declaring that uncovering a murder that happened fifty years ago more pressing. They fell asleep in each others arms intertwined, and never stopped doing so every night since. Following this were small kisses that started on the forehead and gravitated towards the lips. Neither of them wanted to admit the definite romantic tension, but neither of them were about to deny that the tension was there either.

Every time Anderson called he would put off Rosie's placement for another week, which was incredibly frustrating to the pair. As much as they had grown to love Rosie they couldn't cater to what she needed properly. Both occasionally had thought they would rather have liked Rosie to stay with them, but these were immediately brushed off as selfishness. Rosie needed people who knew what they were doing. Still, the process was taking forever and Anderson wasn't helping one little bit. Perhaps that was why Sherlock was so surprised when he picked up his mobile to the news.

"Sherlock I have the most amazing news for you, I have found a couple that are willing to take the girl. They have experience with kids with similar problems to her so she will do great with them. I have sent a cab over to pick Rosie up, it will be there in just under an hour."

"In an hour, Anderson that's -"

"Just under actually."

"No you can't just -"

"Goodbye Sherlock, have a nice day."

"Anderson -" But he had already hung up the phone.

John came into the room and asked who was on the phone.

"Anderson's finally found a place for Rosie." Sherlock said.

"What? That's good news Sherlock."

"Yes, great news."

John sighed rather loudly and stood up. "Right, well I had better be telling Rosie then." He said, just before quickly exiting the room, grabbing a duffel bag on the way. As soon as he was out of the room he let tears fall down his face. He really didn't want to be the one to break this news to her, but he also really didn't want Sherlock to see him upset. He knew that it was selfish for him to want Rosie to stay, she needed proper help. Still, that didn't change how he had grown really attached to the child. He took a deep breath, walked up the stairs and knocked on her door. The music that was coming from her room immediately stopped (of course she would be playing the violin).

"It sounds beautiful, who wrote it?"

"I wrote it John." She said. John was stunned, the music sounded professional and definitely not like it was written by a young girl who had been learning for such a short amount of time.

"Rosie, I uh … well the thing is … how do I put this? … Rosie, I have some new for you." John took another breath. "Anderson has managed to find a couple for you to live with permanently. They have fostered children before and will be able to give you the support you need to live a good life." 

Rosie didn't say anything for a long time. She was trying to process everything that had just been said. "So I'm leaving?" she asked quietly. Her head was bowed, very similar to how she would always hold herself when she had first arrived. "Have I displeased you Sir? Is there anything I can do for you to want me again?" Rosie knew she didn't want to leave, she had been treated so well and was even given freedom. Sherlock would teach her the violin and let her watch his experiments, and John would hold her when she had nightmares and stay with her until she fell asleep. She was willing to do anything to keep this. 

"Oh Rosie, you haven't done anything wrong. Sherlock and I would really love for you to stay, but this family will be able to take better care of you. You are always welcome to come and visit. I'll leave you to pack now, you are welcome to take anything that we have bought for you. You are welcome to use this to put everything in." He handed her the bag and then left without another thought. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The doorbell rang before they had even started to comprehend what was happening. Mrs Hudson showed the couple upstairs. Everything happened so fast. Rosie came downstairs, she was pulled out of the door away from her place of security and loaded into a car. 

John looked at Sherlock. Together, the two men broke down, holding each other on the sofa and sobbing until John eventually cried himself to sleep. Sherlock carried him to the bed, pulled the blanket on top of him and planted a kiss on top of his forehead. 

Meanwhile, Rosie was staring out of the car window. She felt sick, and for good reason. The car turned round the corner and stopped outside the house of one Jim Moriarty. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again - I'm sorry this took so long. I'll get the next chapter out soon! 
> 
> Please stay safe everyone, the world is so crazy at the moment and I hope everyone is okay.   
> Lori xx


	8. He's Gone Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs for child abuse, implied sexual abuse and violence. 
> 
> Stay safe kiddos x.

Jim Moriarty stared at Rosie. Even he was a little surprised at quite how quickly he had managed to get her back. She was kneeling in front of him silently. He had just had to punish her for her behaviour. She had been dragged into the house kicking and screaming to the point where he had to sedate her. Now she was back in her old uniform, not even daring to look at him. "Go make my bed vermin. I want clean pressed sheets. Once you are done I want you to kneel next to it and wait for me." He smiled as she ran off. He was going to have so much fun with her tonight.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rosie's eyes fluttered open. She realised she was on the floor in Jim's bedroom. He was stood above her. She then realised quite how much pain she was in.

"It's time for you to cook. There are some steaks, do something with them." Said Jim as he roughly pulled her to her feet.

She nodded in obedience, wincing as she put pressure on her feet that were now severely damaged. As soon as she was out of the room she let herself cry. She just wanted John and Sherlock to come and rescue her. They wouldn't though, they had given her back. They were probable glad to be rid of her. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I had better move back into my room, I guess we don't have to share anymore." Said John as he went into their kitchen to grab some food. The smell of the cupcakes that Rosie had made the day before she left was lingering in the oven. 'She's gone' thought John as he slowly closed the door. He abandoned the food idea and joined Sherlock, who was carefully stroking his violin plucking the little strings. The sound rung out, reminding them of the music that had begun to fill the flat every afternoon. 

"I miss her." Said John, voicing what they had both been thinking. 

"So do I." Silence filled the room again. They heard footsteps, and Mrs Hudson walked into the room carrying a tray of tea. She set it down sensing the darkened mood as Sherlock stared out of the window watching cars pull up. The three of them couldn't shake the sense that something was very wrong. 

As usual, Mrs Hudson chattered on. Sherlock was about to ask her to be quiet so he could think properly when something that Mrs Hudson said caught his attention. "The couple that Rosie is living with now, very nice car they had. Quite an odd number plate though. Also where do they live? Rosie left a couple of things here and I think we should -"

"Wait. Say that sentence again." Said Sherlock as he slowly turned around. 

"Um, where do they live? Rosie -" Said Mrs Hudson confused. 

"No before that." 

"Oh, I was just saying that they had a nice car but it had an odd number plate." 

Sherlock's face fell. He immediately stood up and threw his coat over his shoulders. He was muttering to himself as a look of complete urgency had formed on his face. 

"John, we need to go out. NOW!" 

"What's going on?" John quickly grabbed his own coat and walked out of the door.

"We were so tied up in her leaving that we missed it, this is exactly why I avoid emotions at all costs! Now come on! Oh you're still not seeing it. Those parents that took Rosie were actors but we were to blinded to see it by the emotions of sadness and the want for what is best for her. TAXI!!!" He practically screamed. 

By the time they were in the cab all that could be heard was John's mutters of 'Oh my God.' 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cab pulled up to the very house they were on no more than a month ago, the house that had brought them so much. As they walked through the house everything was practically identical to the way it had been before except for one thing. Nobody could have prepared either of them for thee screams that ripped through the air. Or the voice yelling at the scream to shut up. 

They followed the noise and ran into the living room, where this journey had all started. John had to turn around before he was fully able to process what was before him. Jim with a knife in his hand, pointed at Rosie's throat as she lay on the floor. In the other hand he was holding a cattle prod which he kept using to electrocute her over and over and over again. She looked like she was in so much pain John thought he was going to be sick. He was frozen to the spot and all his senses were failing him. The only thong that could cut though his fog of thoughts was Sherlock's voice. 

"Step away from my daughter." 

Jim laughed. "Your daughter? I gave her to you as a slave?" 

"Yes. My daughter, and I would thank you to give her back to me." The enemies made eye contact as Rosie had enough sense to back away from the man about to attach her. 

"Um, let me think. No. I've used her how I wanted to, I think I might kill her now." He walked over to the child who had crammed herself into a corner carrying the knife. 

What happened next was so quick nobody could quite understand how the events actually happened. Jim was about three seconds away from slitting Rosie's throat when John's mind arrived back into the room. He picked up his gun from his pocket. Three shots rung out. Then a body, Jim's body, lay lifeless. All time stopped for what seemed like ages with an uncomfortable silence filling the room. The sound to break it was a choked up sob from the girl in the corner. Sherlock's instinct overtook him and he found himself picking up the child and cradling her as John checked over her to see if she was okay. 

"Sh, it's okay." Whispered Sherlock. "He's gone now."


	9. It’s not a crime to be content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this is the last chapter - thanks to anyone who has been reading. 
> 
> I might write a couple of one shots out of boredom and make this a series but I don’t know yet. 
> 
> I’m writing this chapter on my mobile so I apologise in advance for the many spelling mistakes I’m going to make.

December 25th - six months after Rosie was rescued. 

“OW!” Yelled Lestrade as the table from Mrs Hudson’s flat fell on his foot. “You know you could have stopped.” 

“You never said to stop! How was I supposed to know?” Snapped back Sherlock. 

“Ow is the equivalent of stop.” He said. 

“Could you boys move out of the way I’m trying to put decorations up.” Said Mrs Hudson as she popped behind the two men carrying the table. 

Meanwhile, John was knocking on the door to Rosie’s room. In his hand he had a bag with a dress inside. “Mrs Hudson’s present to you. We thought you might like to put it on before we set up for dinner.” 

”Thank you John.” She pulled it out of the bag. It was green and had a velvety texture. “It’s lovely.” 

“I’ll leave you to get changed.” Said John.

Rosie sat alone, waiting a minute before she had the courage to pull on her dress. She let her hair out of its ponytail and brushed it out. Looking at herself in the mirror she realised how different she looked. No longer did her bones stick out and her face look like it was slightly grey. The bags under her eyes had disappeared. She liked how she looked now. She looked less desperate or sad, she was healthy. 

Mrs Hudson gasped as she came downstairs. So did Molly, who had only just come up the stairs. Molly was smiling at how much better she was since her first appointment with her. “You look beautiful, that colour suits you.” 

”Now come on dear, let’s have a spot of champagne - or we have some fruit juice since you shouldn’t drink alcohol.” 

”Thank you Mrs Hudson” replied Rosie.

—————————————————

The rest of the afternoon was nothing like Rosie had experienced before. The whole Baker Street family had come for Christmas. Mycroft had even been persuaded to come along! After a long afternoon of eating and chatting, then an evening of mince pies and presents people said their goodbyes. 

Rosie had a small pile of presents next to her. She was shocked when there were a few with her name on them, this had never happened before. Still she was able to accept and open everything. John could feel himself bursting with pride at how far she had come in such a short time.

“There’s something else.” Said John. He disappeared into his and Sherlock’s room. 

When he returned Sherlock spoke up. “We wanted to get you something special. You know - because Christmas is so new to you.” 

John placed the rather large parcel in front of her. Rosie tentatively picked at the wrapping paper. What was inside make tears well up in her eyes. It was a violin, a brand new violin, and it was hers. She ran her fingers across the beautifully polished wood, plucking the strings and relishing in its sound. With wide eyes she looked up at Sherlock and John. She didn’t need to thank them, the look on her face showed everything that needed to be said. 

Mrs Hudson reappeared interrupting the moment. “Hello. Oh wasn’t that such a lovely day. I really enjoyed it. Best Christmas I’ve had in such a long time.” 

Sherlock and John stood up. “It was pretty good yeah.” Said John through a yawn. 

Rosie looked at both of them. “One more thing.” She took both their hands, and then placed them in each other. Neither of them fought. Instead, Sherlock put his arm properly around John pulling him closer. 

”Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.” Said Mrs Hudson. 

Sherlock looked at her. “Right now, I don’t have a case. But it’s strange. I don’t actually feel bored.” 

”Oh Sherlock. It’s not a crime to be content.” 


End file.
